


A Single Strand

by Lokincest



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, Incest, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Post Avengers AU Setting, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokincest/pseuds/Lokincest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he needs is one strand of Thor's hair.</p><p>Just <em>one</em>.</p><p>It would be more than enough.</p><p>This is forbidden magic – even dark magic – but at this point Loki doesn't care. Because Thor stopped caring about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the updated tags and warnings... This fic will have some moments of violence, use of blood in magic, etc. I apologize. But this was never going to be a fluffy fic. That said, though, this isn't going to be a dark and awful fic either. It's just going to have bittersweet "reality" strewn in and Loki fucking everything up as usual.

Something changes between them on a cold autumn night. 

Loki can feel it in the way his bones ache after Thor slams him to the ground. Laughter bubbles up in his throat, a natural response to cover the pain, but it stops when Loki catches sight of Thor face. 

His brother's normally bright blue eyes – or even dark blue, with the promise of a harrowing storm – are dull. Thor looks on him in a way so eerie, so strange, Loki cannot place it for long seconds. Then he realizes. Thor looks as if he's simply... _given up_. It sends splinters of ice through a heart Loki thought had frozen solid long ago.

Loki is stunned. He waits for Thor's expression to change, to lighten or darken, but it remains cold and neutral. It's like he's seeing a stranger. Then Thor turns his head and won't look at him anymore, but his body language is just... wrong. His shoulders are slumped, like he's exhausted. The entire time, Loki doesn't move from the spot where he landed. Apart from the laughter, he hasn't said a word. Thor hasn't said a word. When Thor starts to walk away he panics.

"Aren't you going to say anything, brother?" Loki asks, trying to disguise the way his voice breaks with a scoff. It's a flimsy cover, a lie, just one among many, and he knows Thor will see through it, will hear the waver in his voice. "Aren't you going to ask me to change my evil ways?"

"You'll never change your ways," Thor says. The words are spoken with a tired, resigned anger. They choke Loki, like smoke from a smothered flame.

Thor doesn't bother to elaborate. There is no rage, no heated words, just this quiet statement. Then he leaves.

Loki still doesn't get up. As if he is waiting. Waiting for Thor to come back and finish this like he ought to. Waiting for the final blow that doesn't come. But he is still cracked apart on the inside. A million fractures. Old ones that never healed overlaid with new. Somehow Thor's indifference is far worse than anything he's ever felt, worse than any punch that landed tonight. And with every passing second he can feel the cracks spreading, despite his best efforts to lie very, very still and think about nothing.

Nothing at all.

It has the opposite effect. For the first time in months, Loki finds himself crying, and he can't fathom why. His body isn't broken. They didn't fight for long. Thor didn't even yell at him like he normally did, asking him to just stop.

 _Just stop this_ , is what Thor should have said. _Stop lying, stop hurting everyone, brother, we can still fix this._

And Loki would tell him, _I can't, I can't stop this. I'm too far gone now. It's too late for that._

 _It's not too late,_ Thor would say, because he never gave up on Loki. Ever. And then every variation of _Please_ and _Loki._

Then Loki would hurt him a final time – a barbed word, a cold exit, a knife slipped between Thor's ribs. Something to remind Thor that he can never trust his brother, that he will always be betrayed. Something to punish him for his love.

And that was what was gone from Thor's eyes, Loki realizes, with a sudden cold, sinking feeling. Thor had always looked at him with love, even when it was through layers of anger and grief that Loki had caused. There had always been love and light in his eyes. Sometimes it was warm and gentle, and sometimes it felt like a hot knife at his throat. But it was always there. This time it was gone. Finally gone.

After years of telling Thor that he was wasting his time, that he was a fool for hoping Loki would ever change, for always falling for his tricks because he trusted too much. After years of trying to extinguish that hope, because Loki had none, he had finally succeeded.

If there is anyone to hear him screaming, Loki doesn't care. The sound is raw, pain-filled, hateful, only a sliver of what he feels inside. Hatred at himself, for finally getting what he thought he wanted, and ruining everything.

Thor doesn't love him anymore. Thor doesn't believe in him anymore. Finally. Finally.

It makes him want to die.

And, all this time, Loki now realizes, he had still held some bitter, naive hope inside. For himself. It had stayed alive because Thor's faith kept it alive. Now it's gone, and he can feel the absence of it. A sharp, physical pain that leaves him achingly cold, colder than Jotunheimr ever was. It's frightening to realize how much this had actually meant to him. He feels gutted. He is sure now that he has died. That the last piece of his heart is gone. Thor is gone.

Loki seriously considers never getting up again.

But, he reminds himself, he doesn't have the right to that luxury.

He died such a long time ago. ~~When Thor let go of him.~~ When _he_ let go of _Thor_. When he convinced himself that Thor would ever let him fall. He betrayed himself. He's always betrayed himself. Failed himself. Thor never failed him. Thor held on strong enough for the both of them. He let Thor think he gave up long ago. Kept telling him a lie for so long, it became true. Of course Thor finally let him go. Of course. Of course.

He remembers Thor screaming for him.

No more screaming.

On his feet, Loki feels hollow, and at the same time, heavier than he's ever been. This is _alone_. He never had it before. He had the comfort of Thor's undying love around his shoulders.

 _Undying_. He has killed something undying. He has dried up something limitless. There is nothing beautiful in this world. For the first time, Loki sincerely considers destroying it all.

He goes home instead, to his apartment in Manhattan.

The chicken he left out to thaw for dinner is waiting for him. Everything is so painfully normal it hurts. A mockery. _This is your life, Loki. Isn't it everything you ever dreamed?_

He magics himself into plain clothes and bare feet, and that's the only thing he manages before he goes into the bathroom and throws up.

Bile. It's nothing but bile, burning his throat. He should eat. Thor would tell him to eat. If he loved him. If he cared. But he doesn't anymore, so Loki doesn't. He takes a cold glass of water instead, drinking half of it and then lying down on the couch.

He doesn't want to get up ever again. But he can't sleep.

Consciously, Loki tries to push all of the pain out of his mind. Let it go. Bury the parts of him that have died. Move on.

This is only one night. He has thousands more to expect. So much more joy. So much more pain. What is this death now when there is so much more to come that will hurt him? This is nothing.

Loki turns onto his back, wiggling his hips low on the couch and tries to fall back into his old comfort. He and Thor fought, nothing more. He closes his eyes and recounts the fight, blow for blow.

Thor's fingers had closed around his throat. A familiar touch, one that used to be so gentle, but Loki can handle brutal just to have Thor's hands on him. They burn him from the inside out. They leave him breathless and aching in ways that have nothing to do with pain.

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor realizes the reason why Loki often flees their fighting. Why he sometimes abandons his own meticulously laid schemes. He wonders if Thor knows it's because most days he can't bear to fight for more than a few minutes before he is too hard to continue. That it's difficult to stay on his feet when all he wants to do is sprawl on his back and submit. Sometimes he wishes that Thor did realize. But it would only end with disgust.

Loki pauses, grimacing. The truth is ugly and disagrees with him. Sometimes he thinks it actively hates him. He and truth have never been on pleasant terms. He prefers the lies for a reason.

He lies to himself most of all.

Thor had punched him in the side, low enough to catch his hip bone. Loki hitches his shirt up, and his trousers down, and strokes his fingers over it now, wishing he had a bruise. Evidence that Thor had touched him. Here.

Loki circles his fingers over the spot, imagining if they were Thor's. But Thor would never kneel between his thighs, touching him like this, like a lover. Would never plant kisses to his hip bones, and lower. Oh, but if he _would_. He would open Loki up slowly, slick fingers inside, sweet whispers against his skin while Loki moaned quietly for Thor. He'd be prepared just enough that it wouldn't hurt when Thor breached him, but not so much as to deny him that final stretch, to feel himself being forced to accommodate Thor's cock inside of him. They would fit together perfectly.

But Loki knows too well that he will never have this fantasy. So he let's himself try another. Something closer to reality. Something easy enough to convince himself is a possibility. He imagines the fight turning another way. He imagines that Thor isn't so willingly blind, that he can feel Loki's hardness against his belly when he crushes his brother against him. That he cups Loki roughly, whispering words meant to shame and humiliate him for this lust. Such words are like trying to douse his flames by adding tinder and fuel.

When Thor tosses him to the ground, he doesn't leave him there. He climbs over Loki, his own body rigid and wanting. Makes his brother bend to his desire in order to take him. No… Not his brother. Thor would never fuck his own brother. But his enemy. This Jotun changeling. This betrayer. He could break him, make him bleed and cry out, spend himself in him.

It would be... brutal. Nothing like Loki ever wanted. Because when he is very honest with himself, he can admit that he wanted his brother long before the truth came out and everything was ruined. And who could blame him? Thor is sunlight poured into flesh and blood, bright and flawless. Everyone always wanted a part of that glow for themselves. Loki only wanted far more than a brother ever should. He wanted warm mornings in Thor's bed, with his brothers smile pressed against his neck and his seed spilled deep inside of him. Love. Incest.

Technically, they aren't related. But it doesn't change anything. They only realize it now. It doesn't change years of growing up together as brothers. It doesn't change the fact that Loki still wanted him when he thought they were blood. There is something fundamentally wrong with him. And still, he wishes that it were Thor's hands on him instead of his own.

Loki comes over his own fist imagining that Thor is the one stroking him, fucking him deeply at the same time. He cries out, writhing, and wishing that Thor's rough hands were on his bare hips, pushing him down. He can almost imagine Thor's throaty chuckle, a smart comment about seeing his little brother come undone, and his smile....

And then the fantasy is gone, accompanied with a sudden sick feeling clenching in his gut because now all he can see is Thor's face the way he last saw him; disappointment and resignation all over his face.

Loki sits up sharply and manages to make himself decent – why, he isn't sure, it's not like anyone can see him, _it's not like Thor is coming for you_ – before breaking again.

All he can do is bury his face in his hands and try to keep breathing. It hurts. _Breathe._

Thor never gives up on anything. _But he gave up on **you**. You earned that. You did. What a wonderful victory. Why aren't you enjoying yourself?_

To his credit, he doesn't cry. Crying doesn't solve anything. Neither does breaking most of his furniture in a fit of rage, but it makes him feel better. The crack of wood splintering lets him breathe again. The loud smash of glass is soothing to his mind.

He is breathless, torn between anger, despair, and manic, destructive glee when someone knocks on his door.

Loki pauses, instantly controlling his ragged breathing to deep, silent gasps. But he can't silence his heart, and it is drumming wildly in his own ears.

There are two broken chairs, ripped apart by his magic and his bare hands. There is glass on the carpet, which crunches underfoot as he goes to answer the door. He winces, but at the same time the sharp pain brings a wave of relief through him. Comfort in pain. He wants to laugh. He has sunken so low again, so quickly. At least he knows he is pathetic. It is a good thing that Thor wants nothing to do with him anymore. He can't blame him for that. He can only blame himself.

When his hand touches the doorknob, for a split second Loki desperately hopes that it will be Thor on the other side. But it isn't. Although they _are_ distractingly blonde.

"Um, hi. I'm your neighbor from across the hall and I thought I heard... things breaking. Are you okay?"

Loki would be impressed, if he cared, because his neighbor is a small female and therefore either very brave or very stupid to check on some stranger when anyone with a brain knows that New York was lousy with crime even _before_ mutants and superhumans started cropping up. But he recognizes her, has seen her in the building several times although he hadn't realized she was his closest neighbor. She obviously finds him attractive – her body language is screaming it, and she's gorgeous herself if he was actually keen on her type. Or any type besides Thor. He briefly imagines trying to turn down her affections in the near future - _I'm sorry, it's just that I prefer cock. Particularly my brother's. I'm sure you understand. But we could have tea?_

Loki stifles the crazed laughter that threatens to come out by turning it into a seamless smile. The very picture of a suave gentleman.

"Perfectly fine. I'm sorry, I was playing a movie rather loudly," Loki says, the lies slipping easily off of his tongue. "I'll keep it down next time."

"Oh. I could've sworn..."

Loki lifts his eyebrows in a mockery of innocence, and even take a step aside so she has a clear view into his apartment to see that it is as immaculate as himself, not a single thing out of place. "Like I said...?"

"Okay." The blonde rocks back on her heels, looking a little embarrassed now, as if she has been caught out on some flimsy excuse to come see him. Of course, she's probably been waiting for an excuse for a while, not wanting to seem too desperate. Clever girl. Loki actually wishes he was attracted to her. "Well, I've been meaning to ask if you'd like to have coffee sometime. There's a nice shop on the corner I wanted to try."

It's a very nice shop. He's been there himself. If he weren't in such an awful mood, he might have agreed to it. For one moment, Loki tries to entertain the idea of letting this woman close, if only for a night. Tries to picture himself in her embrace, the way others do when they want to forget someone else... but it feels far more vulgar than even his normal fantasies. Lies and illusions can only be twisted so far.

"Sorry, I'm all backed up with work this week," Loki says, with an apologetic smile, and wonders if she will see the lie.

If she does, she's either more tenacious than he thought, or else he is too good a liar these days and she really thinks he's telling the truth. "Well, let me know," she says, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder in a way that makes him ache.

She goes back to her apartment and shuts the door. Loki is staring at a strand of blonde hair sitting on his door step.

There are a lot of things that can be done with even a single strand of blonde hair.


	2. Chapter 2

The glamour drops as soon as Loki shuts the door, revealing the state of his apartment, and himself. There is glass embedded in his feet, but also nicks across his arms and hands. There is dried semen smeared on his pants, and he can feel the stickiness of it elsewhere on his skin because he had forgotten about the mess.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Loki groans aloud. But he already has a pretty clear idea what the answer to that is.

Loki goes as far as cleaning the glass off the floor, but as for the rest, he can't bring himself to care. He takes a long, hot shower, scrubbing both blood and come from his skin. His shame. His sins.

And yet, there's a worse sin that he's already considering.

When he washes his hair, his hands come away with a long, black thread plastered to his wet skin. It cements the dark idea in his mind.

All he needs is one strand of Thor's hair.

Just _one_.

It would be more than enough.

This is forbidden magic – even dark magic – but at this point Loki doesn't care. Because Thor stopped caring about him. 

Well, he can make him care. He can do more than make him care. He could make Thor _want_ him. He could finally know his brother's most intimate touch. If Thor won't give it freely, he will take it from him. And surely that will be just as good. It has to be.

The very idea makes Loki tremble with mad desire. Love spells are the foulest form of magic – playing with heartfire is manipulative and can end unpredictably, violently. Even a spell cast with the purest intentions can become twisted.

Well, it's good that he's already aware that his intentions are far from pure.

And it's not like he has anything to lose. Not anymore.

**x**

It actually doesn't take much to break into the Avengers headquarters.

If one considered wasting half of their magical strength in one go as _not much_. Because in actuality, he's burning himself up for this, like striking a match and trying to hold onto it for as long as possible. Precious seconds. If he gets caught, he'll be lucky to escape the ensuing fight and get away. But he won't get caught. The level of magic he's expending ensures it. Layer upon layer of concealing illusions and glamours, spells that make him walk between walls.

No one's even home. At least, not Thor. These are his quarters. Rather obvious – besides the few clothes on the floor that he's seen Thor wear before, Loki can _smell_ him in the air. Dark and earthy, with a touch of something like pine. Suddenly, Loki wants to just crawl into Thor's bed, to curl up and bury his face against the pillow and breathe in his brother's scent.

Loki wonders if Thor ever pleasures himself here, in this bed... no, he can't be distracted. He's burning himself out, and the spell hasn't even been cast yet. Once it has, he can come back and dawdle all he wants... He could have all of this and more.

The thought makes him almost lightheaded. Loki could finally have the only thing he's really ever wanted. All he has to do is destroy Thor's free will in the process, and make his brother into a mockery of everything he once was. The bitter reality threatens to make him sick, but Loki is trying to make peace with it. He has no delusions about what a love spell really is. It's like wanting a deceased relative to be alive again, so you dig up the corpse, put it in fresh clothes and pretend. But you know it's fake, and no matter how hard you try, everything keeps rotting.

This was never the sort of thing he wanted to do to anyone, much less Thor.

You have to be desperate enough, to the point where you're aware of exactly what you're doing and how disgusting it is, and the alternative is still worse.

The alternative is that he tries to keep living a life in which Thor has stopped loving him. And it's his own fault.

Loki prefers the lie.

He moves on, to the adjacent bathroom. It's clean, nondescript, like Thor's room. Only a few personal effects are scattered in plain sight – a toothbrush and stray comb left out for quick use. Exactly what he was hoping for. And as luck would have it, there are two blonde strands of hair on the bathroom counter.

He takes just one.

And then Loki transports himself directly outside and lets all of his magic stop. It's an amazing tension off of his body.

He's shaking. Whether it's from the amount of the magic he just consumed, or from the anticipation of what he's about to do, Loki isn't sure.

There is one fine, blonde hair pinched between his fingers. Even in the dark city night, it seems to radiate Thor's warmth, his light. Loki can't help but think that his brother really was made from sunlight. He wonders if he's going mad. Then he laughs, because he remembers, that ship sailed long along.

He can't afford to lose this. It is a small piece of Thor, but right now it is all he has. It is paramount. He tucks the small strand inside his mouth, between his tongue and cheek, where it won't slip away. Can't. 

And then he has shopping to do, because love spells are tricky and his cupboards are next to bare.

**x**

An hour later, Loki returns to his apartment with a single bag filled with the ingredients he needed. He enters his building normally, without spells, although he curses himself for not bringing his keys and has to spring the lock. There is a reason why he doesn't just use his powers for everything. It would be impossible. Every bit of magic he uses up is taxing. Particularly after that stupid trip into the Avengers Headquarters.

 _You are so desperate. It's pathetic,_ the voice in his head whispers. Loki rolls his eyes at himself. This is old news. And he's so far past pathetic there isn't even a word for it yet.

He dumps out a glass jar of coffee, rinses it out, and then starts assembling his spell.

This is base magic. Almost primal. But that doesn't mean it's simple. Two of the ingredients he had to substitute, and that's aside from the second-rate heart he managed to find. It's supposed to be fresh, and although Loki obtained it from a butcher who assured him it was, just before he stole it, he isn't convinced it's any better than a day. But, he couldn't find a pet shop within walking distance.

Loki finds a sharpie marker – bless sharpie markers – and carefully writes ancient runes on the glass jar until it is encircled. As of yet, they have no effect, but without their presence, the container would be shattered later trying to contain the spell. It needs to remain solid in order for the spell to continue. With these simple markings, it could stay intact indefinitely.

Loki unwraps the heart from its white paper packaging and lays it on the cutting board. He finds a knife, thin and long enough for its purpose, and cuts an incision into the middle of the heart itself. His fingers are bloody from handling the meat, but it's no matter. Loki finds the hair where it sits in his mouth and pulls it out. He pauses for a second to stare at Thor's hair, finding it somehow less radiant now that it's been separated from its owner for so long. He pushes it deep into the heart and then sets the organ in the jar.

The next part is harder, and has to be substituted. He doesn't have any virgin blood on hand, and he doubts that the Avengers would take kindly to him abducting a sacrifice, even if there are a million girls willing to play vampire these days. But, this jar is small enough. He uses his own, slicing deep into his wrist before he can think twice about it, and then letting the blood drain into the jar.

By the time he is done, there are about four inches of blood in the jar, almost covering the heart. Loki clutches his writst to his chest and goes to the bathroom to find a bandage. The bleeding eventually stops, two blood-soaked piles of gauze later. He tapes a clean wrap to his arm and goes back to the kitchen, feeling somewhat fainter than before.

The heart... is pulsing.

Loki nearly falls down when he sees that the spell actually worked. He leans on the counter, his face nearly to the glass.

Quietly, sickly, sitting in his own blood, the heart pulses.

Loki blinks several times before he remembers himself, and puts the lid back on the jar. His grip is shaky and weak, but the lid screws shut.

He needs fire now. But his apartment doesn't allow for such things – even the stove is electric. He clasps the jar in his hands instead and summons fire.

Bright green flames sear the jar. And, Loki thinks to himself with some manic relief, it's even better this way because the spell is being sealed with his own magic.

When he's done, the glass feels almost molten, it's so hot. The heart is pulsing faster inside, stronger. Somewhere, Thor's heart is beating at the same pace.

The heartfire spell has a sort of love-at-first-sight effect, meaning that Loki only has to find Thor now and get him to look at him.

Loki is exhausted, and considers waiting until morning, but he really can't. Not just because he's eager to get this over with – he'll rest when he's in Thor's arms, or dead – but because he has no idea what kind of effect would come from a significant delay between casting the spell and triggering it.

He locks his apartment door, keeping the keys with him this time, and heads out once again.

Getting into Avengers headquarters is... significantly harder this time. He isn't aware his concealing spell slipped off until he suddenly finds himself cornered in one of the hallways by Tony Stark.

"Silent alarm?" Loki guesses, looking over Tony's frazzled state with some amusement. Judging by the tank top and boxer shorts, with fresh smears of motor oil, Tony had been working on a late night project. Maybe he fell asleep in the lab. He's only wearing a piece of his armor, a glove, but Loki has no doubt that he can summon the rest and might already be doing so. The blaster is aimed right at Loki's chest.

"I'm not here to fight with you," Loki says.

"You're just saying that because I'd kick your ass," Tony laughs, but there's a nervous relief in him. He isn't aware of how weak Loki is right now. Any other time, he would be badly outmatched, but not tonight. Loki can only hope he doesn't realize it.

"Are you the one who's been raiding the refrigerator?"

Loki squints at him. "Doubtful."

"Weird. Someone's been eating all the cheese."

"Unless you think it's Thor, I'm really not interested," Loki says. "I need to see him."

Tony scrunches his eyebrows at Loki, as if trying to figure out what his scheme is now. "Well, congrats on getting this far, but... your princess is in another castle."

Loki narrows his eyes at him. "I'm well aware of where his room is."

"Clearly not, though," Tony says, actually frowning now. "What I'm saying is, you're barking up the wrong tree. You're in the entirely wrong building."

"Excuse me?"

"He has his own apartment," Tony explains. "I thought you knew. Don't you guys have sleepovers all the time?"

"I thought he had a room here," Loki says, feeling anger rise. "The next floor up."

"Yeah, he does, but he doesn't use it all the time," Tony says, and Loki relaxes. For a second, he was worried he had screwed everything up.

"Where is he, then?" Loki asks. "Where is his apartment?"

"Um. I'm not telling you that. You don't seem to comprehend the whole bad guys don't get what they want thing."

"Thor would want me to know."

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure about that? 'Cause he's had that apartment for months and didn't tell you about it, so... Not seeing the love there."

Loki isn't aware that he's on the floor until he hears Tony somewhere above him. "Whoa! Steady on your feet, Bambi."

Tony flounders for a second, unsure if he should offer Loki a hand up or keep his blaster aimed at him. The latter option wins, although his aim falters for a second. Loki doesn't really notice, or care, with his palms pressed against his temples, his fingers digging hard into his scalp as he tries to breathe.

_Months?_

This isn't even _new_ , and he was too _**stupid**_ to notice. When did Thor stop loving him? Why was so fucking blind?

"Are you okay?" Tony questions, with uncanny concern in his voice. It actually sounds genuine and it makes Loki want to throw up. Tony _Stark_ cares more about his well-being than his own brother. "Don't pass out on me. Or on second thought, go ahead."

As much as Loki hates Stark, the man does have one positive thing about him. He gives Loki a reason to want to get the hell out of there.

Loki pulls the oldest trick in the book. He goes invisible, replacing himself with a clone, and leaves.

Halfway down the hall, he lets his clone collapse and play dead. The chorus of _"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"_ brings a genuine smile to his face.

He won't have much time - using so much magic in one night is making his bones ache - but he doesn’t have to get very far. One of Tony's vices is that he has computer interfaces everywhere. Loki hacks the nearest one and it politely spits out Thor’s address for him.

He and his clone disappear from the tower.

That's it, Loki realizes when he appears outside once again. No more magic. He feels physically ill, his skin hurts, and his legs ache when he moves them.

Thor's apartment is a fifteen minute walk away. It takes him the better part of an hour to get there. The building is huge, almost blocky. Inside, it's clear that it isn't as high class as the place that Loki managed to find, but it's still nice.

At Thor's front step, Loki pauses, leaning heavily on the door.

He could go home. Destroy the spell. Give up everything. For Thor. It's what he _should_ do.

But he already knows he can't. He can't bear the idea of spending the rest of his life without Thor. Loki isn't selfless enough to let Thor go on without him. He never was.

And at the same time... he doesn't belong here. Thor didn't _want_ him here. Never told Loki where he lived to begin with. _You haven't been welcome in his life for a long time. He gave up on you ages ago._

Well, fuck him. And Loki means that literally. Thor would never give himself freely, so he will take what he wants. Then when he's used Thor and gotten his fill, he'll break the spell. Let the illusions come down. Let Thor reel in horror as he realizes that everything was a lie. Let everything burn. Let himself burn.

Loki is caught off balance when the door opens. He struggles to catch himself on the door frame but then Thor's hands are on his chest, steadying him. "Loki?" Thor says, and his voice is so full of concern that Loki wants to scream. Instead he forces himself to look up, to stare into Thor's eyes so he can watch his brother struggle as the spell takes him over.

There is no struggle. Thor's hands are soft and firm on his shoulders, and his eyes are all over Loki, and then on his face again with the tenderest expression.

"Are you okay?" Thor asks, his voice rough from sleep. "Tony said you were trying to find me. He said you looked unwell. It seems he was right."

"You didn't tell me where you lived," Loki says, his voice smaller than he intended it to be.

"I'm sorry," Thor says, sliding his hand up to cradle Loki's neck in a familiar touch. His skin is so hot it almost burns and the only thing Loki can think of is that he wants more.

Loki finds himself sinking, and then Thor's arms are strong around him, lifting him. He vaguely hears the door snap shut as Thor carries him inside, and it triggers a panic. Loki instinctively tries to lash out, but he is too weak. His limbs thrash for a moment, but Thor just holds him tighter, and Loki stills all at once. He is in Thor's arms, and the realization makes his stomach clench and all he can feel is _want_. Thor's scent is all around him, stronger than Loki even remembered and it makes him groan and try to bury his face against Thor's throat, to seek the source of it. He wants to taste.

But then he can't reach. His world tips backwards. Thor is laying him down on the couch, and Loki wants to grab him, but Thor comes to him of his own volition. He kneels over Loki in a way that makes his heart start hammering. Years of fantasy come to life. Loki is hard before Thor's hands even touch him, and when they do they start pulling off his clothes, starting with his coat and then his shirt. Loki isn't sure how he's still breathing without any air in his lungs.

When Loki is stripped to the waist, Thor stops. His hands leave Loki bereft and wanting. He wants Thor to kiss him now, to feel his weight on top of him, to arch his hips up against Thor's stomach and grind, offer himself up to whatever his brother would do to him. But Thor's eyes are shining, and he looks as if he is truly seeing Loki for the first time. There it is, Loki realizes, with a strange regret that feels so detached from himself, like it belongs to another person. Thor is fighting against the spell.

"What did you do, Loki?" Thor questions, his voice strange, almost breaking. But they both know the answer to that. "Why would you do this?"

"Because you stopped loving me," Loki says, managing to give his brother a bitter smile, somehow apologizing but refusing to take back what he's done. Thor at least deserves the truth in this, even if Loki won't release him from his fate. Not yet.

Thor's face goes soft again as he sinks under the spell. His expression is overlaid with sadness and another emotion that Loki recognizes, because he had seen it all his life. "I've always loved you," Thor says, and Loki feels himself grin while something breaks in his chest. The spell is so perfectly cruel, giving him exactly what he wanted, what he wishes he could believe.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispers, trying to show Thor that he means this. But he can't go back, either. And then his hands find Thor's shirt and he drags him down with all of his strength and kisses him. It's so fitting that he has to drag Thor down to his level in order to have this. He can feel his soul slipping further into Hel. But Thor's lips are soft and warm, and then they open for him, and Thor kisses him back, and Loki knows that damnation will be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Thor's kisses are as brash as his fighting. He rushes in, sloppy, but Loki can't bring himself to fault him for it, because the eagerness is as attractive as anything. His tongue is hot and slick in Loki's mouth, and all Loki can think about is that he wants to know what it will feel like licking the underside of his cock. The hardest thing to fathom is that he can _have_ that now. No more boundaries. All he has to do is tell Thor what he wants.

The kiss breaks against Loki's own will, but Thor presses their foreheads together, his eyes closing. "I love you," he says, and it makes Loki burn inside. He wants to hear those words a thousand times over, wants to hear them whispered and screamed, panted and moaned. Wants to hear Thor say it when his voice is almost too hoarse for speech, and hear it spoken when Thor has a smile on his face that would blind the sun itself. Thor presses a gentle kiss to Loki's cheek, and then to his neck, and Loki opens for him, stretching himself in invitation for Thor to take more. Take everything.

Thor sits back instead, looking down at Loki, sprawled out under him and wanting. Now Loki can see it. The struggle in his eyes, behind a sad and tight-lipped smile. He seems at odds with himself, confused and unsettled, as if trying to process the fact that he now desires his brother when he never did before. Loki wonders how subtle this spell might actually be, and he suddenly hates it.

The confusion passes as quickly as it comes. Thor smiles at him, nothing but love, and it makes Loki's insides twist for conflicting reasons. _Thor's love._ But he doesn't want to see that struggle again. Once was too much, he realizes. Why did he think he wanted to see Thor struggle with the idea of loving him? And then Thor is kissing him again, on the lips, and it's bliss. He tries to open for Thor, but before he can part his lips the thunderer is climbing off of him.

"Thor," he blurts out, and grimaces at the desperation that is so evident in his voice.

"I... I am sorry, I shouldn't have done that," Thor says, pressing his hand to his head as if he can't believe what he's just done. No. This is not the way it's supposed to happen. "You're my brother, I..."

Loki's mind is reeling. The love spell isn't supposed to work this way. He didn't plan for, and doesn't want to have this conversation. "I'm not your brother," he spits out, his fists clenching. Loki wonders if he has enough strength to flee, if he has to.

"I know," Thor says, and he sounds wounded to admit it, like admitting that it's true will break him apart. "But you _are_. We grew up together. We're not supposed to do these kind of things."

Loki feels himself crack once again. Old wounds that never heal, torn open repeatedly. He doesn't want Thor to see him like this, and covers his face with shaking hands as if it could block anything out. His lungs are on fire, his entire body aches, and when he feels Thor's hands on his own, trying to pull them away, trying to make him open up _now_ , he wants to scream.

"Loki, please," Thor is saying, but Loki doesn't want to listen. "I love you. I... I don't want to hurt you. I can't... I took advantage of you, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The words are so confusing. So far from what he expected. Loki would laugh if he wasn't afraid that any action on his part whatsoever would lead to uncontrolled crying. Or vomiting.

"I... You think I didn't want it?" Loki asks slowly, his words dripping with condescension, because even under a love spell, Thor is so _dense_. "I've wanted this for years."

Silence says a lot of things. This one tells Loki that Thor is trying to process that horrible revelation. All of its implications. That Loki wanted him long before they knew he wasn't related. He's glad that he can't see Thor's face from behind his hands.

There's a soft sigh that could mean anything, and then Loki feels Thor's lips against his knuckles, feather-soft, and he could almost relax. He doesn't, though. Can't let his guard down, especially now. Can't bear to look at Thor, at this horrible spell. He was so _stupid_. He feels Thor's fingers against his own, stroking gently down to his wrist and then lifting away.

"I'll be right back," Thor says, his voice quiet but sincere. "Please stay here."

Loki barely nods. There's no place he can go anyway. He backed himself into a corner. He's exhausted in every sense of the word. Magically, physically, emotionally.

He hears Thor leave the room and draws in tighter on himself, as if his own weak body could protect his fragile and failing heart. It hasn't yet. It won't now.

In this spare moment, Loki tries to process how his spell could have gone so horribly wrong.

Heartfire is dark magic. But it's also a spell that Loki had memorized. The text he read it from years ago is rare, and wasn't even part of his own collection, so it's not like he has it on hand to review. He'd screwed around with how it was cast, certainly, but he didn't expect... this result. Honestly, he had expected violence first. He thought that heartfire was a quick and dirty spell, something powerful and potent. He expected a hard, fast coupling. He expected Thor to be thrown deep under his thrall, mindless and insatiable the moment he laid eyes on Loki.

But love spells vary wildly. It seems like this spell is set to be a slow burn. An idea implanted in Thor's mind – _un_ brotherly love – and left to fester. A low flame set to build over time until it consumes. Because that is the one thing that Loki remembers clearly about the spell – that the longer it is set, the stronger it becomes over time. Until that's all that there is. Until the cursed can't live without the other. Until terrible things happen.

But until then... Loki isn't sure how he'll survive. _Slow_ was not part of the plan. Not when Stark knows that something is up, and will undoubtedly come snooping.

Loki finally uncovers his eyes. Hiding doesn't do much to cover his shame. But not being half naked on his brother's couch would help restore some of his dignity. He is trying to pick up his shirt when Thor comes back, his arms full. He hurries over to Loki, dumping his goods on the coffee table and pulling the shirt out of Loki's hand.

"Lie still," Thor says, gently pushing Loki down until he is lying against the couch, and refusing to let him up. Loki resists for a few seconds and then lets himself relax. It's not like Thor would hurt him, and his body is screaming at him to rest. 

Thor rubs his hand over Loki's shoulder, petting him in a way that is both bizarre and soothing. And then he turns back to the items he had gathered, most of which Loki recognizes as about five different types of bandages, and some sort of salve.

"I don't need that," Loki objects as Thor opens the container of salve.

" _Don't,_ " Thor growls, and it makes Loki go completely still. "Let me help you, for once. I'm supposed to take care of you."

Thor leaves the container open, ready for use, and then tears plastic off of a bandage that is a rolled strip of fabric. Loki is at a loss for its purpose until Thor's hands touch his left wrist, lifting it as delicately as if he were trying to tend to a wild animal. It's only then that Loki remembers his wrist, bound and forgotten. He wants to laugh at Thor and tell him he's fine, but there's dried blood seeped through, and when Thor unwinds the sloppy binding, his wrist is dark with evidence of the wound. The cut is deep, jagged, and barely held together fresh black scabs. He had forgotten how much it hurt until Thor's fingers try to hold onto him, always too rough no matter how gentle Thor tries to be.

Thor wets a wad of cotton with the salve, and starts to clean the neglected injury. At the first harsh rub, Loki flinches, and at the second he starts bleeding again.

"Oh, what have you done," Thor whispers, an edge of fear in his voice. He grabs for some end of bandage and presses it to the wound, then applies pressure tight on Loki's arm. "You are a fool."

"Really, it's not like I'll die," Loki says, and he knows the words are cruel and he tries to say them in the coldest way possible, but his throat tightens and then closes up when he sees the stricken expression on Thor's face.

"You don't even care, do you?" Thor asks, bitter, and neither of them are entirely sure it's actually a question. "Shut up and let me do this."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, you idiot," Thor says, and grabs Loki's wrist a little too tightly on purpose in order to keep him still. He takes off the bloody bandages once the wound closes again, and adds more salve, gentler this time, no scrubbing at the delicate scabs. Then he take a clean length of bandage and wraps Loki carefully, making the binding neat and snug. He fastens the bandage off with a length of tape, and a kiss pressed to the inside of Loki's wrist.

"I am sorry," Thor says again, his eyes wet. "For doing this to you."

"Don't be stupid," Loki manages to say. "I did it to myself."

But Thor just shakes his head and lays Loki's bandaged arm down on his chest. He turns back to the supplies, and Loki expects him to start picking them up, but instead Thor grabs a little box and tears into it. He pulls out something thin, like a piece of paper, and peels it in half.

"What is that?" Loki asks, crinkling his nose in distaste when Thor presses it to his bare arm, over one of the small nicks that Loki had earned in his tantrum. It is bright yellow and sticks to his skin.

"A band-aid," Thor says, with a small smile as he reaches for another one. He peels it open and places it over another little cut. This one is purple.

Thor repeats the process everywhere he finds a cut. Red on Loki's collar bone. Green on his forehead. Blue on his cheek. "They'll make you feel better," Thor explains without prompting. Loki supposes he looks doubtful. When he's done, Thor seals each one with a kiss. Loki isn't sure what kind of healing magic is in the little sticky bits of paper, but he does feel... better isn't quite there but he feels nice.

After Thor kisses the one on Loki's cheek, Loki catches him staring at his lips before averting his gaze. Loki leans up and takes Thor's mouth for his own, leaving no question about what he wants. Thor has to pry himself away from Loki's hungry embrace.

Thor gathers up the supplies and puts them away. He also takes Loki's bloody shirt with him. Loki suspects that he has tossed it in a bin somewhere. When Thor comes back, it's with a clean t-shirt that he tugs over Loki's head despite protest.

"It's late," Thor says, coaxing Loki onto his feet with an outstretched hand. Loki can't resist slipping his own hand into Thor's. It's surreal, when Thor laces their fingers together. They _fit_. He wonders where else they fit together. "Let's go to bed," Thor says, rubbing his thumb against Loki's uninjured wrist.

"You are supposed to _un_ dress me and take me to bed," Loki teases, following Thor to the bedroom.

Thor almost looks embarrassed. "I am tired, Loki. And so are you. You..." he pauses, staring at Loki in an odd way, and then suddenly Loki is scooped up in his oafish brother's arms again.

For a hot, dizzy moment, Loki wonders if this is part of the love spell suddenly slamming into high gear, and imagines himself being ravished within the next three seconds. But Thor doesn't go to the bedroom; he takes Loki into the bathroom and makes him sit on the sink. Thor drops to his knees in front of him, and Loki's hips move eagerly, involuntarily. He almost moans.

Thor pulls off his shoes and socks instead of his pants. Loki is the definition of disappointed.

"Why didn't you tell me your feet were sliced to ribbons?" Thor asks, actually angry.

"I... didn't think about it?" Loki shrugs, confused.

"You were _limping_ ," Thor tells him, searching Loki's face for a second and then sighing. "Why do you have to lie about _everything?_ "

The words sting him in strange ways, leaving his chest feeling tight. Thor wets a washcloth with hot water and washes the blood from Loki's feet. Loki winces when Thor finds a sliver of glass and pulls it out. Thor looks sad again, and tired. Loki wants to tear his own flesh away just to make that expression finally _leave_ his brother's face. The spell was supposed to _fix this_.

"I didn't lie," Loki says, finally finding words and almost choking on them. Thor doesn't look at him, but he goes still, listening. Loki has to pause the better part of a minute before he can speak again, but Thor waits, his shoulders rigid. "I couldn't feel it."

"They didn't hurt," Thor scoffs lightly, mocking.

Loki shrugs again, trying to smile just to spite himself. "Everything hurts."

Thor is silent at Loki's feet. Loki watches his shoulders raise as he inhales deeply, and then Thor rises up and hugs him tight, his face pressing against Loki's belly. For a long moment, Loki doesn't dare to breathe. But Thor doesn't let go, and Loki can feel him hot against his skin, even through the borrowed shirt. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and Thor shifts his arms, holding even tighter while his body shudders against Loki.

Loki moves cautiously, resting his hands on Thor's shoulders. He strokes his fingertips against either side of Thor's neck, and feels his brother sigh against him, hot breath trapped against his stomach. Thor's hair is soft. Familiar threads of spun gold. Loki winds the blonde locks around his fingers, and then unwinds, over and over, wondering about how much of this is part of the spell and how much is real. He doesn't let himself hold any hope.

After a long time, Thor sucks in a breath and moves his head, leaning his forehead against Loki's belly. His hands go to Loki's waist, holding him in place as if he's afraid Loki might disappear.

"I will take better care of you," Thor promises, his voice ragged. 

Loki wants to tell him, _No. This isn't your fault,_ but he can't find the words.

Thor lifts his head at long last, his eyes shining, his smile sad. Loki's borrowed shirt is wet against his stomach. He kisses Loki again, on the lips. So many kisses that Loki knows he will cherish forever. He will let them haunt him long after the spell is broken and he burns in Helheimr for his offenses. Each one is a crime against his brother, against his own heart. He tells himself he doesn't care. He can have this for now. This is all he has.

Thor shakes himself, stands, and retrieves the familiar little box. He peels apart the papers and sticks them all over Loki, until his feet are rainbows. Loki can barely wiggle his toes, but Thor is happy now. He laughs when he's finished and sees the little crease of disapproval in Loki's brow.

"I'll carry you," Thor says, and Loki's hands instantly reach out, expectant. He wraps his arms around Thor's neck and clings tightly as Thor lifts him up yet again. Loki presses his face into the crook of Thor's throat, seeking the warm scent of him. His hands refuse to let go when Thor tries to set him down. Thor has to crouch, setting Loki on the edge of the bed, and pull his hands apart.

Loki doesn't even want to move. He wants to latch onto Thor again and not let go. But Thor pulls back the covers and then lifts Loki's knees, turning him and making him get into bed. It's hard to sit upright, so Loki finds himself sinking against the mattress, against the pillows.

This isn't the way he expected to find himself in Thor's bed. Bone tired, his body in agony, covered in colorful band-aids, with an enthralled Thor tucking him in instead of fucking him.

His eyes keep shutting, and he has to open them several times before he realizes that Thor isn't in the room with him. Just as he's about to worry, he hears a soft noise, and the room goes dark. A second later, the bed dips low with Thor's weight as he climbs in beside him.

"Thor," Loki says, and his brother moves closer, trying to lay his head on the same pillow. All he can smell is Thor, and feel his radiating heat next to him, Thor's body pressing against his side. Thor throws his arm across Loki's stomach, holding him in an embrace, but it isn't enough.

Loki lays his arm on top of Thor's, aligning their hands, entwining their fingers. Thor gently tightens the grip, acknowledging the familiarity, but Loki isn't doing this to hold hands. He lifts Thor's hand in his and brings them down, arching his hips as he pushes both their hands under the waist band of his pants.

He hears a sharp inhale next to his ear the instant Thor's fingers touch his cock, even outlined through his underwear. He's half hard, and he knows Thor can feel it, that there is no mistaking this. No illusions. Loki clenches his hand on top of Thor's, encouraging him to touch. For a second, Thor resists, not letting Loki curl his hand, and Loki wants to curse all of the Nine. But, as soon as Loki relents, Thor's fingers move of their own volition, tracing the curve of his cock all the way to the tip. Thor's fingers are light on his skin, almost shy, and so much less than what he needs.

Loki makes a soft noise, and tries to press Thor harder against him, to grind into his palm, but Thor jerks his hand away as if burned.

"Not tonight," Thor says before Loki can get angry. He would be offended, but Thor sounds so desperate, and the same palm is rubbing against his opposite thigh, distracting him. Thor's hand moves lower, grabbing Loki's ass and pulling him onto his side, so that they face each other, and then dragging him closer until there isn't an inch of space between them. Loki tucks his face against Thor's chest, trying to squirm closer, to press their hips together and make it clear that he needs more. To his surprise, Thor pushes his knee between his legs and hauls him up until Loki is slotted against him and rubbing on his thigh.

Loki groans and moves forward, thrusting slightly against Thor's offered thigh. "That's it," Thor murmurs, wrapping his arm tight around Loki while the slighter god rocks weakly against him. He's tired, but he could rut himself like this. It would be enough for now. And he wants, oh he wants.

Barely two minutes later, the crash comes and Loki is asleep instead. The last thing he remembers is Thor's warm, lulling scent and the pulse of his heart in his chest, and then black.


	4. Chapter 4

In his dreams, Loki can hear Thor's voice while he grinds against him.

_Just like that. Work yourself on me._

Loki wakes up hard and wanting, but all the friction he imagined in his dream is gone. He's lying on his side, in a bed and room that are wholly unfamiliar. It causes a momentary spark of panic until he feels the warmth at his back and remembers, he is with Thor. His body hurts so badly he doesn't even dare move, and he doesn't remember why.

Then it comes back to him. The fight. The spell. Making Thor kiss him. Trying to force his hand on him. He wants to curl in on himself and die.

But… Thor had kissed him back. So sweetly. Repeatedly.

And his fingers had moved on their own, exploring him if only for a second, once Loki stopped trying to control the situation.

A soft noise behind him makes Loki suspend all thought. He lies still and tries to listen to Thor's breathing, and any other sound in the apartment. Another soft noise comes, like an inhale. The thought comes to mind unbidden - what kind of sleep does Thor get these days? It's been ages since they were last bedmates, but he remembers his own nightmares after he fell. He'll never forget Thor's screaming.

The bed creaks lightly as behind him, Thor moves, almost seeming to stretch himself out. Then he hears his own name, the barest whisper of someone trying not to be heard. "Loki," followed by a slow, shaky inhale and an attempt to control an exhale.

Loki suddenly has a clear mental image of _exactly_ what is going on just behind his back, and just like that, he's hard as rock. He wants to _see_ , but his body is so sore that he just manages to move his hips, turning slightly, and Thor goes deathly still.

A second later, Thor shifts on the bed. This movement is wildly different and Loki is afraid that Thor is covering up – he reaches behind himself, finding Thor's clothed thigh and digging his fingers in to stop him.

There's a ragged intake of breath, and Loki still can't see behind him – he is turned too far and the room is gloomy with only some sort of predawn luminescence as light.

"I did not mean to wake you," Thor says, his voice hushed and still too loud at the same time. "I was just getting up." It's a lie if Loki ever heard one, because Thor is so damned _bad_ at it.

Thor tries to get up, but Loki digs his fingernails harder into his thigh. "Stay," he says, and Thor obediently stays, although now he is half sitting up and every muscle in his body has gone tense.

"Can I watch?" Loki questions, making sure to speak clearly so that neither the clods of dirt in Thor's head, nor his guilt, can mangle the words or their meaning. There's a long silence, and Loki isn't sure whether or not he should be amused by Thor's hesitation. Is he shy or.. resentful? Loki really doesn't want to think about the latter option and what it means.

"Would... would it please you?" Thor asks.

" _Yes,_ " Loki says quietly, but emphatically. He squeezes Thor's thigh and strokes his fingertips over thin cotton, trying to make himself clear. It's frustrating that this is the current limit to his ability to entice. But he doesn't want to startle his brother off. He smiles when he feels Thor's hand cover his own, holding it there.

Loki makes the effort to turn himself, grimacing as he moves his hips, then his shoulders, until he's lying on his opposite side, facing Thor. There isn't much to see – Thor has pulled his pajama bottoms back over his hips, but the dark blue fabric has a promising lump. He lays his head back down on the pillow, and edges one band-aid covered foot forward, stroking the arc of his sole against Thor's bare feet in a slight, teasing touch.

The playfulness earns him a crooked little smile on Thor's lips. His brother settles back against the bed, looking across Loki's body and then down at himself. Thor lifts his hips, hooks his thumbs into his waist band and lets his erection free.

The sight of it, even in the poor light, makes Loki suck in a huge lungful of air. He's oblivious to his own reaction – too caught up in staring. Loki's memories of quick glimpses over the years are nothing compared to the actual length and thickness of Thor. It makes him _ache_ in ridiculous ways. 

Thor wraps his hand around himself, and on the first smooth stroke Loki realizes he is already slick. Slick from _what_ is answered when Thor's hand moves up, his thumb rubbing over his glistening slit, spreading precum. The unexpected carnal _want_ is like a physical punch in the gut. An embarrassing involuntary noise escapes – a whimper or a moan, but Loki isn't even sure either would be the right word for it – before Loki bites his lip savagely and digs his fingernails into his own thigh to keep from trying to touch.

"Loki," Thor groans, his stroke faltering at Loki's noise, and then resuming with fervor.

Lying next to Thor, listening to him pant, watching him work himself, Loki could just cry. Because after everything he's done just to get what he always wanted, he still can't have it. And at the moment, all he wants is to taste the fluid leaking out of Thor's cock.

Loki swears loudly and lets himself fall onto his back, sprawling his knees apart as much as he can and trying to adjust his own hard-on. He turns his head again, straining to watch every stroke. His own breathing is harsh and in almost perfect timing with Thor's. Loki lays his hand on the mattress between them, nudging his knuckles against Thor's bare hip in a question that he can't manage to ask right now.

Thor stills his stroking, simply holding himself for a second and with his left hand he picks up Loki's and bring it to his cock, inviting his touch. Loki's fingers barely brush his erection at first contact, but it makes Thor arch and make a strangled noise. Carefully, Loki encircles Thor, mingling their fingers together. He lets Thor take over, guiding Loki's hand in a slower rhythm. He's caught up in the sensation – how Thor's girth fills his grasp nicely, the _heat_ of Thor's flesh, how delicate the skin feels, and yet how _hard_ underneath.

After a few strokes, Loki extricates his hand as unobtrusively as possible. Thor falters again, unsure, but Loki's fingers stay on him, this time light touches on the head of his cock. The thunderer groans, laying his head back against his pillow as he firms his stroking. Loki swipes his fingertips through the thin fluid gathered on the tip of Thor's cock, rubbing slick circles across the glans, and Thor comes.

Loki almost startles. His only warning is a sudden tempo increase in the last two strokes, and Thor's hips jerking upward. Thor's seed spills over his fingers in warm spurts. Loki groans softly and puts one finger to his mouth, licking up what he can before putting his hand back to gather more.

He curls his fingers, catching what he can of Thor's dripping seed and then hastens to take care of his own need. Thor is gasping for breath beside him, their shoulders almost touching. Loki uses his thumbs to pull down his own pants and underwear, just far enough down his hips to free himself. Without hesitation, Loki slicks his own cock with Thor's spending and starts working his hand at a swift rate.

Thor groans at a sight of it and lays his hand at the juncture of Loki's hip. He's so close, the touch is all it takes, and Loki comes over his own fist with a whimper.

The two lie still for a while, breathing hard in tandem.

Thor rolls over. Presses his nose to the crook of Loki's neck, burying his face against Loki's skin.

Loki can feel Thor grin against him. Can feel his own heart splinter in a happy, painful way.

Then Thor puts an arm around him, giving him a tight and affectionate squeeze. Normally Loki would enjoy it, would let Thor crush the air out of him, but his body feels like glass today and it draws a sound out of him that makes Thor withdraw. Loki is both sad and grateful when the pressure is gone.

"Are you okay?" Thor asks, lifting himself on an elbow to look at Loki. To watch his face for lies.

Loki makes the effort to be as honest as he can allow himself to be. "Sore," he says. "And tired."

Thor gives him a tight smile, nodding. There's concern in his eyes. Loki isn't sure when his brother started looking so weighed down.

Thor bends forward and kisses Loki on the cheek, on the blue band-aid there. Loki finds himself clinging to Thor without meaning to – only realizing it when he finds Thor staring at him questioningly. _What is on your mind?_

"Are we okay?" Loki asks.

A blinding smile lights Thor's face even in the dull room. "Yes. I love you, Loki," he says. His fingers are warm on Loki's cheeks and his lips are even warmer. His tongue is smooth against Loki's. His breath is... regrettable but Loki is sure his isn't great either and it makes him laugh.

Thor laughs too – an easy, mellow sound that echoes inside the hollow places in Loki's heart.

"Get some rest," Thor says, kissing Loki again on the nose and getting up out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Loki asks. He watches Thor shuck off his soiled pajamas bottoms, revealing skin that Loki has only dreamed about for the last century or two. He would actually enjoy the view if it weren't for the fact that Thor is _leaving him_.

"Into the shower, first, but then I usually meet up with Steve for a morning run."

Loki doesn't know whether the answer soothes his anger or makes it worse. He tries to squint at the window but it's behind his head at a strange angle so he just collapses with a sigh instead. It's definitely _not_ morning. "I always knew you were the type to get up with the sun but the sun isn't even awake yet."

Thor smiles at him again and Loki considers taking back what he just said. The sun does appear to be shining. Just for him.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Loki stares at his brother. He seriously considers saying yes, and keeping all of Thor's glory to himself for a few hours longer. If he weren't in considerable pain, it wouldn't even be a question – he wants Thor badly, wants to feel all that muscle and warm flesh pressed hard against him, and _inside_...

But he is too exhausted to want anything right now but sleep. And while he would love to ask Thor to at least hold him, he realizes that it would only delay the inevitable. Thor would have to get up and go about his daily routine eventually. Otherwise his teammates and friends would ask him what was going on and that would bring Loki's efforts to ruin. It's not like Thor could just say, _Sorry, I spent the morning in bed with Loki_.

Later, Loki can keep Thor in bed for as long as he dares. And after that... after that he isn't sure. The world can burn for all he cares.

"No, I'm good," Loki says, careful to put enough feeling into his words so that Thor won't doubt him and stay behind. He finds the sheets and tugs them over himself, curling up in Thor's warm absence.

Loki falls asleep to the sound of the shower running.

He wakes up later to the touch of something warm and wet on his hips.

"Wha-?" Loki jerks away, groggy and wondering if Thor was _licking_ him?

Thor's hand holds down his hips, keeping him still, and the wet sensation returns, this time gently over his cock and Loki realizes that Thor has a wet cloth.

"How... was your run?" Loki asks, confused, as Thor rubs him down.

"I haven't gone yet," Thor says. "But I thought you would not appreciate being left in such a state."

Loki hadn't honestly given it any thought, although he supposes that later he might have complained to wake up sticking to himself. He tries not to make a noise when Thor lifts his hips and tugs his pants the rest of the way off, but the smallest whimper escapes him and Thor notices.

"You really are hurting, aren't you," Thor says, and it's not really a question. He cradles one foot in his hands, inspecting the few slices he can see – some of Loki's band-aids fell off while he was sleeping. When he's done looking, Thor bends and kisses Loki's ankle, careful not to force Loki to move his leg too much. He sets Loki's foot back down and helps bend Loki's legs up at the knee so he will be more comfortable lying on his side.

Loki stares at Thor impassively, one fist tucked under his pillow. Thor picks up four band-aids from the bed and then fixes the sheets over Loki. He grabs one of his own pillows on impulse, and tucks it under Loki's arm, giving him something to hold. The gesture surprises Loki, but he curls around it, breathing in Thor's scent.

"I'll be back again soon," Thor promises.

**x**

The next time Loki wakes, it's to the soft, clinky noises of Thor fumbling in the kitchen. He lies quietly for a while, blinking in mid-morning light and letting himself wake up. The room is bright and smells like warm linen and sunlight. Somewhere, he hears something clatter onto the floor, followed by Thor swearing with a lot of colorful Midgardian words.

Loki smirks and stretches cautiously. His body is feeling infinitely less hateful now. He slips out of bed, only wincing at the first contact of his feet on the floor.

Folded neatly on the end of the bed are his clothes. He only knows this because he recognizes his jacket, and pants, which have apparently been washed. _How long was he sleeping exactly?_ The shirt and socks are Thor's, and Loki is certain now that Thor has tossed his bloody clothes in a dumpster somewhere to keep him from retrieving them.

Loki is fastening his pants when Thor finds him.

"You're already up," Thor says, a note of disappointment in his voice.

"Did... you want me on my back a while longer?" Loki questions, looking at Thor from under his eyelashes, and he isn't sure whether or laugh or feel bad about the redness that suddenly hits Thor's face.

"I... I wanted to kiss you awake," Thor stammers.

Loki can't help but smile at the sentiment. He also can't help but tease, "and then what?"

Thor looks precious when he can't think of what to say. Whether it's because he's too flustered to fess up, or whether he had genuinely never thought that far ahead, Loki can't decide.

They're interrupted by some electronic beeping that makes Thor jump and Loki scrunch his nose at. Thor pulls some cell-phone type thing out of his pocket that looks like Stark tech and looks at it while Loki rolls his eyes and grabs his shirt.

This love spell is shit, is all that Loki can think. But he'll fix it soon enough.

He tries to pull the shirt on, but his back and shoulders protest loudly at the position required. Within a second, Thor is helping him, tugging the shirt over his head and fixing it.

"Thank you," Loki murmurs, grateful that at least Thor is paying attention to him again.

"I have to go in," Thor says. "There's some sort of trouble to take care of."

Loki sighs, wishing that he were all the trouble Thor cared about taking care of. "Of course there is."

"Are you going home?"

"Yeah, there are things I have to do," Loki says, tugging on his socks and shoes next. He pointedly ignores the way Thor stares at him sadly.

"I wish you would stay," Thor says.

"I wish you would give me a reason to stay," Loki snaps in return. There's no pleasure in seeing Thor recoil from his words, and watching him just stand there, unsure of what to say, only frustrates Loki further. But it's his own fault. It's asking a lot from someone who didn't want this in the first place.

Loki grabs his jacket. Bites his lip to keep himself from apologizing. Thor looks so hurt, but it is because Loki is hurting him and apologizing is cruel when he has no intention of stopping.

"Try not to get yourself killed," Loki says, hoping that beneath it all, and despite everything he has done and will do, Thor will understand that he does care about him. Although, it's so twisted up now that Loki isn't sure his feelings are genuine anymore. Maybe he never loved Thor. Maybe it was always just himself being so fucking selfish.

"I'll be fine," Thor says, and Loki desperately hopes it's true. He hopes that none of this means a damn thing to Thor, so it won't hurt him so badly in the end. That despite all of his toxic behavior, when the spell breaks, Thor will be fine. Because Loki knows that _he_ won't be, but that was a given from the start. He couldn't care less about his own heart.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki takes the long way home. 

He enjoys New York, enjoys Midgard, not that he'll ever admit it to anyone. The citizens are resilient, often times only reacting to the latest hero/villain battle by rolling their eyes. _Seriously? Don't scratch my fucking car or you'll see **me** Hulk out!_ He's even seen people risk their lives to help the hero get back on his feet, even if that means buying more time by flinging themselves at the villain. It makes him wish he were a better person.

Loki buys fresh hot peppers from a produce market. He pays with cash – fake bills that will disappear in a few hours' time. It's a trick he uses for almost everything, except for paying rent. Some things you just can't risk. He actually _likes_ where he lives. The neighborhood is as quiet as New York gets these days, and he can walk to the local shops to get almost anything he needs. Except for saffron. Even the nearest chain grocery store doesn't carry any.

That was the one ingredient he particularly wanted. Peppers are fine, but saffron is not only supposed to stimulate love and lust, but also raise storm winds. And if that isn't appropriate, Loki isn't sure what is. He'll have to make do without.

Loki stops in the hallway to retrieve his keys, and that's when his neighbor's door opens.

 _Shit, shit, fuck. I do **not** want to deal with lovesick mortals right now,_ Loki groans internally.

"Hey," she says, and Loki dares to look at her. To his surprise, she's dressed to leave, and is locking her door behind her. Their run-in is a coincidence then. "Buy anything good?"

"Uh, hot peppers," Loki says, lifting the bag in his hand in indication. "The store didn't have any saffron."

She lifts an eyebrow at him. “Fancy dinner?”

"Something like that. I needed it for a dish. Now I'll have to substitute."

"There's nothing that really substitutes for it," she says. "If it's not the real deal, forget it."

"I know," Loki says, and can't help but feel like those two statements could easily apply to other things.

They're both clutching their keys. His neighbor pushes her hair out of her face with a sigh. Distracting blondes are a sudden trend in his life. Actually, just the one. But she reminds Loki of him.

"I have saffron," she says, surprising him. "Do you need it right now or can it wait a minute?"

"I… just need it soon," Loki says.

"I just need to do some errands, I'll be back in like an hour and find it for you," she says.

"That would be fantastic. Thank you," Loki says, sincerely. She offers him a smile and walks off to the staircase.

Loki opens his door, almost grinning until he steps inside.

He had almost forgotten. His apartment is still a disaster zone.

Loki sighs, locking the door behind him. His furniture is still broken. There is still glass hiding in the carpet. There are blood stains in the kitchen. It reminds him that he was not prepared to deal with any of this. That he had no plan to start with, and still has no plans.

He checks on the spell jar first. The heart is doing fine – pulsing steadily in a dark swill of his own blood. But this spell isn't right. It didn't work the way he wanted it to, at all. He'll have to fix it.

Loki leaves the jar alone for a bit, heading into the shower instead. He peels the rest of Thor's band-aids off, regret in every color. He strips off his borrowed clothes and turns the water up as hot as he can bear it.

This spell is fucked. It worked, but nowhere near the way Loki wanted it to. Thor loves him again... hell, Thor wants him carnally, but it isn't enough. He wanted Thor overridden with base desire. But Thor is far from being overridden. In fact, Loki has a sinking feeling that Thor is conscious of the spell, beneath it all. That he might be perfectly aware of what is happening, and confused by his own behavior. It's as if only the seed of the idea was planted into Thor's head, a subtle manipulation.

Loki doesn't have time for subtle. There's no world where he and Thor can spend years slowly falling in love with each other. He can't love Thor more than he already does. He doesn't want to watch his brother slowly suffer under this farce. If Thor is conscious enough to hold himself back, Loki has a feeling that when the spell ends he will be left completely aware of everything that happened, everything that Loki made him do.

It's almost funny that despite everything, the spell gave him what he wanted. Thor's love. A night in Thor's bed. And it's hilarious that, this is the opposite of how Loki expected the spell to go wrong. He was prepared for violence, for Thor to be mindless with want, for his body to be ruined and his life forfeit in the heat of the spell's fire. Because that... that is how strongly Loki feels for Thor in the first place. This softness makes him even more uneasy than the alternative.

When Loki finishes his shower he towels off and finds his own fresh clothes. He leaves Thor's loaned clothes behind... as much as he would like to wear them, at least he can have them later if he keeps them here now. When the spells breaks, if Thor asks, Loki will tell him that he's washing them. Not that Thor will ever have the chance to ask him in the first place.

Loki returns to the kitchen, where the spell jar waits for him. He needs to make the spell more potent, about tenfold. Kisses are nice, but nice things are better left to nice people. Loki wants to burn now.

He can't just end the spell. Thor would remember everything, his progress would be forfeit. As hard as the spell was to cast the first time, the second time there's no guarantee at all that it will even take.

It's a physical spell, so physical ingredients are necessary. Loki digs out the pepper from his bag. Ordinary stuff, with terrible potency in curses and the like. Pepper is a catalyst, and an excellent force for lust and sexual potency. It's also an excellent force for anger. Loki lays the peppers on a cutting board, finds a knife and slices them into fine pieces. They'll make the blood hot. 

Love and hate aren't such separate things. It's all red in the end. His spell is _red_.

Loki is prepared to uncap the jar and dump them in, but there's a knock at the door.

He pauses, casts a basic glamor on the apartment again and answers.

Loki is almost surprised to find his neighbor at the door, a bottle of saffron in hand. She was quick.

"You're a life-saver, thank you," Loki says, reaching for the bottle, but she pulls her hand away.

"This isn't like borrowing a cup of sugar, y'know," she says. "Saffron is expensive."

There's no flirtation in her tone. Even the veneer of neighborly pleasantness is worn thin, and it unsettles Loki. However, there isn't even anger in her voice. It's something else, something that reminds him of Natasha. He thought he had her type pegged, some foolish crush, but suddenly Loki isn't sure.

Loki nods, blinking as he tries to remember if he has any _real_ money to offer. His trick wouldn't work out so nicely if cash is what she's after. "What do you want for it?"

"I was gonna say a date, but that would be pointless, wouldn’t it?" she asks, staring at him with a familiar bitter longing. And suddenly Loki understands.

"Yeah. It would be," Loki says, plain with his words but not cruel.

"Truth, then. You didn't give me the courtesy before. I want it now. What's her name?"

There's a quiet, seething anger to her that Loki appreciates. Also the irony of asking for truth from a liesmith. The irony that she has no idea what she's even asking for.

"What makes you think there's a she?" Loki asks, containing himself when he wants to laugh bitterly until he's sick.

"Nobody uses saffron unless they're in love with the culinary, or trying to impress someone," she says, an almost mocking quality to her voice. "And I've seen how often you order takeout."

Loki looks down for a moment, considering how clever she is, while being so blind. "What makes you think there's a _she?_ " he repeats, quieter.

To his surprise, he can see her anger crumble away when the realization comes. She closes her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line as if mentally kicking herself for her mistake.

"I feel like such an ass," she says at last, opening her eyes and offering him the bottle. "But. You could have shot me down from the start. For future reference? Letting someone think they have a chance, it's cruel."

The words are disturbingly cutting. Loki grasps the bottle before she can change her mind. Taking it is strange. It feels dubious. Why is she bothering?

"I think it's better, in a way," Loki says, because he can't have her have that last word. "Thinking you could have someone is better than knowing you can never have them at all. Even if it's a lie."

"No," she says. She looks perplexed by this conversation. "If someone really isn't into you, pretending otherwise doesn't solve anything. It just hurts you more in the end. And it wastes time, when you could've moved on. Found something better, something that's real. Someone who actually gives a shit."

Loki's grip tightens on the bottle. He feels a crack form in the glass. "For some people... there isn't an option."

"There's always an option," she says. "I think there's someone for everyone. But you'll never find them if you're wasting your time with someone who doesn't love you. ...He doesn't, does he?"

Loki could kill her. He really could. There'd be no need to bother disposing of her body. He could just leave her in his apartment, or her own. It wouldn't matter. By the time anyone noticed her missing, noticed the stench, he'd be long done with this. He could make his stupid little plan into a murder-suicide instead. Like an extra bonus to his list of crimes. He almost _might as well_ do it.

"Thank you for the saffron," he says instead, not disguising the coldness in his voice at all. "I'll return whatever I don't use."

Her face is almost ashen, the color drained from it. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business, but if you ever want to-"

Loki slams his door in her face and locks it. It doesn't drown out her voice, though. He hears her curse loudly.

"I was gonna say, if you ever want to talk, I'll listen," she shouts through the thick door. "Even though you're a total _fucking_ asshole." His door shudders, words emphasized with a surprisingly strong kick.

Loki backs off half a step, and has the barest notion to open the door again, to continue this fight, but he hears her door slam shut.

Good riddance, then. Good fucking riddance to nosy, useless, lovesick mortals spewing their pointless sentiments. Like they have any right to _breathe_ in his direction. Like he has a heart it could stick to.

Well, he has one heart.

Loki returns to his work. He sets the saffron on the counter. The glass is cracked, and when he opens the bottle it splinters further. Not that it matters. He sprinkles the orange spice over the peppers he'd already prepared, and then dumps it all into the spell jar without ceremony.

Adjusting the spell requires another sacrifice. He rolls up his sleeve, where his skin is raw and scabbed. His wrist isn't healing like it should be. It's a common side effect.

He uses the same blade he'd had earlier for the peppers. It's careless, but he's done worse things. ...Like slashing a little too deeply, which he does now.

There's blood on the blade, on the side boards. It gushes up with frightening ease and makes Loki laugh aloud to mask his fear. This is magical wound now, it won't stop so easily. He fills his jar, the contents turning dark... almost black. It worries him more.

Loki caps the jar with slippery hands, making sure, above all else, to seal it tight. Once again, he summons magical fire to reseal the jar. The smell of burnt blood is everywhere. 

When he's done, Loki hides the jar again, and then quickly clasps his right hand over the wound to staunch the flow. He's been dripping blood freely – it still escapes through his fingers, far more than the same injury would bleed if it were caused by normal meas. The universe is demanding it, he knows. This is a cost of blood magic. It would be better if he had done this outside, where his blood could water the greedy earth. But even bleeding into the ground wouldn't be enough to repay for what he's done. He'll let the air lick at his spilled blood for now. The earth will have his body soon enough.

A stained bath towel later, the wound finally stops. He binds his wrist in fresh bandages, tight and clean. The bindings are nothing like what Thor had done for him earlier – they couldn't hope to be. Loki simply doesn't care about himself that much.

There's not much blood on his shirt, surprisingly, but he has to change it. His skin burns – from the connection to this curse, or from pepper juice, he isn't sure. Silently, as not to tempt the fates, he hopes that he isn't allergic. The last thing he needs is that kind of stupidity.

He wants to leave but there's one more thing to do.

Loki digs in his cupboards, finding a bottle of some useless spice. He dumps it out, rinses and dries the jar, and then finds his marker and jots a little banishing spell on the glass. He doesn't add any real magic to empower it – wasting his energy on this is unnecessary. It's a whim more than anything. A parting gift to the world that no one will ever appreciate. He does add one thing to it – the saffron. 

He grabs his phone, locks his door, sets the bottle on his neighbor's step, and leaves.

He won't be coming back.

**x**

By nightfall, Loki is at Thor's apartment again. 

He should leave. Drown himself in the river.

He wishes he weren't so selfish. For Thor. But he was never a good person. It's not like stopping this now would save him from Thor's disgust. He might as well go all the way with it. Give Thor something to finally _hate_ him for. He'll have this. It'll be the one thing he has when it ends.

Loki knocks on Thor's door, tenses and waits. There's a noise inside, and Loki wonders.

The door jerks open, and Loki flinches, shuts his eyes, waiting for the first blow. Instead of a punch, Thor's fists clench in Loki's shirt, grabbing him as roughly as Loki expected. There were only two ways this could have ended. Violence, or extreme violence. But he still panics, his own hands instinctively grabbing onto Thor's, as if he could ever hope to stop him. Thor hauls Loki off his feet, ripping his shirt, and slams him into a wall.

There's a loud crack when his skull collides with solid wood, and the pain makes his eyes fly back open in fear. He expects the blow to come again – for Thor to keep beating until he's smeared with Loki's blood and the structure is destroyed. It wouldn't kill him – Thor would have to find a harder surface for that, and Loki is terrified wondering if Thor would do so or make him suffer first.

But there isn't another strike.

Instead, Thor's mouth crushes him with a hard kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...  
> Please take a second to comment!  
> I crave feedback like Loki craves a good hard.... hug.


End file.
